Banished and Betrayed

"Stop."

The moment I stepped into the chairman's office, a stern voice halted me in my tracks.

We were father and son, yet there was no greeting, no warm inquiry after my well-being.

"You know why you've been summoned here today, don't you?"

"Yes. Because I'm lacking."

He cut straight to the point, and I answered as I always did, standing just inside the doorway. All the while my father flipped through documents at his desk without once looking my way.

The office was vast and opulent, a space that made plain just how powerful he was in this country. Today it felt even larger than usual. The silence stretched deeper for it, and that silence weighed heavier than any outburst of anger would have. I almost wished he would just yell.

He had struck the nerve dead-on. It was a question I hated. I knew the answer, and so did he. He simply wanted to hear me say it. Still, I had no choice.

"Because I'm not an Awakened."

"And yet, strangely enough, every one of your siblings awakened."

The moment the words left my mouth, another blade followed.

"The eldest and the second are high A-rank. The third ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠is A-rank as well. And the fourth?"

"Mid-tier A-rank."

"That's right."

Father spoke with a sneer.

"What a remarkable coincidence. Four out of five children high A-rank or better. And only the youngest remains unawakened..."

I had known this was coming. No matter how many arguments I might have prepared, on this point I had no choice but to keep my mouth ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠shut.

"When you were young I held out hope. Maybe you'd awaken late. Maybe things would change once you became an adult. But now you're twenty-two, is it? And still not the slightest sign of an awakening."

Having said that much, Father leaned back in his chair.

"Fine. I understand. Not everyone awakens."

I blinked. Those words were the last thing I had expected.

"Awakening is a matter of talent. Not every person in the world becomes a hunter."

Was he finally going to understand me? For a fleeting second, hope stirred.

Then the next words came, mocking that fragile expectation.

"The problem is what came after. You failed to awaken, and in place of that you never gave your best."

Another blade found its mark.

"However insignificant it may look, that guild carries the company's name. Do you know why I gave you the guild master seat?"

"...Because you were giving me a chance."

"At least you understand that much. Yes. I gave you a chance."

His eyes sharpened in an instant.

"I placed an unawakened son in the guild master's chair of a guild that bears the company name. Why? Because you are my son."

I had a mouth, yet no excuse would come. I knew the truth better than anyone. I knew every barb of criticism that had been hurled, every sneer whispered behind my back.

"I kept the fact that you were my son thoroughly hidden. To everyone else you were nothing more than a parachute hire, a figurehead. That much I could accept, but..."

At that moment Father gestured, and the secretary—who had not moved once until then—sprang into action. A screen bloomed across the wall of the office. On that enormous display, as large as a movie screen, appeared a workshop and display shelves I knew all too well. Even if the workshop alone left room for doubt, the shelves made it obvious: I was making figures.

"Still at it, I see."

I flinched. I had believed I was enjoying this in secret, that no one knew.

Father let out a hollow laugh.

"So. You were pouring your time and your mind into that sort of thing. I asked if it was really that much fun."

I could not answer. It was fun. I could sit for hours without growing tired. Shaping the form I wanted, painting it, assembling it, bringing it to completion—I loved the entire process. But I could never say those ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠words here. Especially not when I remembered how Father had once erupted in fury upon discovering this hobby of mine.

"Obsessing over something so trivial is why you never awakened and why people look down on you. Can you honestly say you gave your all to your duty, to your work?"

That was not true. I truly had given everything to my duty and my work. I could endure the rest, but I could not endure being wronged.

I opened my mouth at once.

"I gave my best as guild master."

As I spoke I pulled out my phone and projected a report large enough to overlay the image of my workshop. Everything I had done while running the guild was laid out clearly.

"We scored at the very top in both external and internal evaluations. Member complaints and resignations were the lowest in the industry. In the ranking of guilds hunters most want to join—"

"Shut your mouth."

The moment I tried to explain, Father's expression changed. The blank mask twisted into something demonic, and my mouth closed of its own accord.

"What about the actual results that matter? Stuck in the mid-tier, aren't you? No matter how incompetent you may be, you are still my son. That is why I entrusted you with a guild sitting on a critical strategic site!"

A guild made of hunters had to produce results. I had done everything I could. But without ability I could never set foot in a dungeon myself. So I gradually delegated field command to the people on the ground and took better care of them in return. I looked after every life event, every personal crisis, and improved their working conditions.

I stopped the factional infighting that tore hunters apart. Thanks to that we cracked the top ten list of guilds hunters most wanted to join. Image? I personally went out to comfort dungeon victims and take part in recovery efforts.

Our reputation was solid. The report I had just put up proved it—an article ranking us a proud third among guilds with the highest public favorability.

"A guild is not a volunteer club. A company? Does this look like some ordinary company to you? What are you going to sell by polishing your public image? What kind of bullshit is that!"

From Father's body—larger than any ordinary man's—a haze-like aura began to seep out. The secretary barely managed to resist it. I could not. I had no power of my own, and Father was an S-rank hunter, a man spoken of as a national-level asset.

"Ugh... kh... uuugh...!"

A crushing weight slammed down on every inch of my body; I could barely draw breath. Even this was him holding back to the finest degree. Any more and I would have been crushed flat as if dropped into the deep sea.

"This world runs on pure power. And human nature is fundamentally evil. No matter how well you treat them, people are still people!"

I knew. Father had lived through betrayal after betrayal. But I had not. The more I looked after them, the more the guild members followed me as their leader.

"Fa... ther...!"

On this one point I could not accept his view. I clenched my teeth and fought back, forcing the words out.

"I'm... different... They... really... are... following... me..."

I could never fully grasp everything Father had experienced. Even as an S-rank hunter, his experience was not absolute truth. Even if human nature truly leaned toward evil, I had seen plenty of good people.

When I resisted, the pressure intensified. When I still refused to break, it suddenly cut off as if it had never been there.

Cough! Cough!

Breath and coughing burst from my mouth. Father was already standing right in front of me, looking down. I raised my head through the shadows and met his eyes. The expression on his face, the pressure rolling off him, looked ready to kill me on the spot.

"From this moment on, you are no longer my son. Every bond between us ends here. Do not even think of seeing me again. Live however you like."

The declaration of severance left his mouth, anger barely held in check.

I called every guild member together for one last greeting and for the slim hope that remained. Every face was familiar. I knew their names better than anyone, along with their personal stories and hardships. I had looked after them and led them, believing that even if I was no A-rank hunter, I could still be a good guild master.

I opened my mouth slowly.

"As of today, I am stepping down as guild master."

A stir ran through the hunters; ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠confusion filled the air. I raised a hand to quiet them and continued.

"It's a decision from headquarters."

At that short sentence the murmuring died at once. In front of headquarters, no one dared talk back.

"A new guild master will arrive soon to take my place."

I paused. The important part was still to come. I drew a deep breath and let my eyes change.

"...And from now on, I'm going to walk my own path."

Every gaze locked onto me. Someone tilted their head. A few kept blank faces; others reacted immediately.

"I plan to leave this guild and build a new one from scratch. Of course that means starting over completely. No support. Not enough capital."

I smiled as I went on. This was the best I could do right now—the starting point for standing against the father who had just severed all ties with me. Inside I was anxious, but I kept my expression and voice confident.

"But I'll run it the same way I always have, and I'll grow it. Is there any hunter here willing to follow me?"

Hunters I had shared meals with. Hunters I had stayed up until dawn with planning operations. Hunters I had visited in the hospital after they were injured. Hunters I had bailed out of legal trouble when they were cornered. One whose parents' hospital bills I had paid. Another who had joined around the same time I did and whom I had supported all the way.

They were now ranked high, their names known far and wide. Many of them had become more than friends—brothers and sisters. All of them had trusted me and followed me. At dinners they had sworn they would follow me even into hell.

I believed none of that time had been wasted.

But with pay and conditions changing, not all of them will come... will they?

I smiled quietly to myself. Out of nearly two hundred hunters gathered here, at least ten should follow, right? About ten percent were people whose lives and futures I had personally opened the way for at the risk of everything.

Yet no one opened their mouth. So I waited a little longer. Of course it was not an easy decision.

"I understand. Even for me, walking away from a guild in this position to join a brand-new one would be a hard call."

I said it with a small smile.

"You all have my personal number, right? If you change your mind, contact me. With that, I'll take my leave."

I stepped down from the platform and went around, meeting each face one last time, offering a farewell. Awkwardness, regret, the brink of tears, something I could not quite name—each hunter accepted my final greeting. Still, the feeling that a few would come stayed with me as I left the guild and returned home.

It was an ordinary house in an ordinary neighborhood—the last foothold left to me. I would sell it, raise capital, and found a guild. Roughly enough money to support ten hunters for half a year. Or I could take out a bank loan. Laying out plans one after another, I waited for the hunters to contact me... and yet...

"......"

Two weeks had passed since that day. A new guild master must have arrived to replace me right away. Yet not a single hunter had come to me. I knew it was a difficult decision. But more than half of them were people I had helped at the risk of my own life. And still—not even one call?

The fact that I was the youngest son of an S-rank hunter and a chairman with global power had been a tightly kept secret. Even after being cut off like this, what about the trust and affection we had built until now?

At the very least, a simple "sorry I can't come" would have been normal, wouldn't it? I never imagined they would turn their backs so easily and treat me as if I had never existed.

"......"

Crushed by that truth, I stared blankly at the display cabinet. It was packed full of the figures I had made.

"Ah... you guys won't betray me, will you?"

The question left my mouth, and a hollow laugh followed. During the free time I had made a few more, so the shelves were truly full now. Just a random thought—but if I took custom figure commissions and sold them, could I make a living?

Even looking at them objectively, they were damn well made. Quality good enough that selling them would not feel strange. From guild master one day to turning a hobby into a profession the next...

A dry laugh escaped me as I tried to sink deeper into thoughts about what to do next.

Ding!